Dance The Night Away
by tbazzsnow
Summary: Dev and Niall have their suspicions about why Baz is being such a prick this summer. Or more of a prick than usual. The idea of a night on the town to get him to confide in them doesn't quite go as planned. Featuring Dev & Niall POV, Baz being evasive, and dancing. Summer before eighth year and about a year post canon. Written as a companion piece to Never Tear Us Apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Dance the Night Away**

**Chapter 1**

**Dev**

Niall is late. Not horrifically late but still enough that it'll piss Baz off.

It probably wouldn't have been as big an issue at the start of the summer holiday. Baz is typically a stickler about punctuality, but back then he'd have just rolled his eyes and made some sarcastic comment and let it go.

But not now. Not this close to the start of term. We go back to Watford in a week.

It gets worse every year. Baz gets moodier and more bitter the closer we get to move in day.

That's why I suggested a night on the town. To take his mind of whatever the devil it is that's troubling him. Drinking, dancing, a night out clubbing. Just the three of us.

Niall offered to drive. Which unfortunately leaves Baz free to drink. That's another thing he's started doing before we head back. I don't like it. It makes him morose and his thoughts go to dark places.

It doesn't affect his tennis skills at all though, blast it.

He's been a right arse all week. Short tempered. Viciously cutting with his commentary. Well, even more than usual.

I don't know if going out will help this time. I've got my suspicions about why.

So does Niall.

It's not something we can really talk to Baz about though.

We'd gone to the city a few times, earlier this summer. Before Niall and I left for my family holiday. That's when Niall first noticed it. I'm going to be on the lookout tonight, to see if he's right.

I'm fairly sure he is.

I check my watch again. Blast Niall. I head downstairs and out the front door. It'll save time if I'm already outside.

I hear the sound of his car coming up the drive long before I see it.

Niall barely has time to put it into park before I'm already opening the door and sliding in the passenger seat. "You're late. Baz'll be having kittens by now."

He just smiles at me, slow and easy. "That's all you've got to say?" His hand slides around the back of my neck and he pulls me to him.

It's a quick kiss. We're hurtling back down the drive a moment later but my lips are still tingling from the sensation.

This is all so new. No one knows. Not my parents.

Not even Baz.

My family goes to the south of France every summer. The vineyards are there and Father always does the annual inspection. At least that's the excuse he uses. I'm sure he does some work, sends updates and reports to Uncle Malcolm, meets with the estate manager, the winemaker, the local magistrate. Assesses the state of the vineyards. The expectations for the upcoming harvest. If they need to invest in new barrels, presses, whatnot. But mostly he likes to faff about the estate and drink the older vintages with the locals.

It's a bit boring, if you ask me.

Nobody asks me.

Mother likes the peacefulness of the estate, the pool, the shadowy rural paths. Having leisurely lunches with the ladies from the neighbouring manors.

There's only so much lying about that I can tolerate. I'm not one to read books endlessly like Baz.

A few years ago, when I was whinging quite intensely having to go there, Mother suggested I bring a friend along for the month.

Niall's been coming with us ever since.

It's been so much better since he started joining us. I've got someone to go on bicycle rides with in the valley, someone to accompany me on drives to the village, who joins me to watch stupid movies when everyone else is in bed, and sneaks barrel tastings with me when no one is looking.

We got right soused last summer, on some bottles Father regarded as an inferior vintage. He had them set aside for Mother to cook with but Niall and I thought it was a better idea to dive into them ourselves. It made for an eventful night and an absolutely miserable morning after.

Followed by an interminable lecture from Father. I thought my head was going to split open. I was somewhat hoping it would, just to shut him up.

We were more restrained in our imbibing this summer. Father grudgingly set aside a few bottles for us to sample "in moderation."

That wasn't the only difference this summer.

Things had been shifting this past year, with me and Niall. Little things. Small instances that I'm sure no one else noticed, not even Baz.

He's frightfully observant typically but not when Snow is distracting him. And Snow has been distracting him practically nonstop the last few years.

It's not how it was when we were younger, when they would come to blows on a routine basis. Now it's more an elaborate mind game that Baz plays, with Niall and I as willing accomplices, while Snow just blusters and blunders about.

Particularly when he's stalking Baz and thinks he's being all clandestine about it.

He's not. He's a lumbering ox in the best of circumstances. I really don't know what Wellbelove sees in him.

I don't know what Baz sees in him.

I know Baz thinks he's being discreet but I caught him watching Snow a few times this past year, when he thought no one was looking. I couldn't decipher the expression on his face, why he was looking at him that way. It wasn't a sneer. It wasn't his typical loathing look.

It was sad somehow. Wistful. It unsettled me.

It still does, but more so now that I think I recognize the sentiment behind it.

I'd caught Niall looking at me like that once or twice this year.

That flustered me in a far different way.

It started off slow and tentative but we finally figured it out this summer. Everything's changed and nothing's changed. I know that might not make sense but it does to me. Niall's always been a constant for me. A comforting presence. Someone I can confide in. An equal.

He's still all that but now he's my boyfriend too.

I'm not quite sure how to tell Baz. I'm not sure I want to. It's always been the three of us but even though we're friends and he's my cousin, there's always been this reserved aspect to Baz. A distance. He's funny and loyal, unpredictably kind and absolutely brilliant. But it's hard to read him sometimes. A challenge to get behind that mask of his.

I think he wants it that way.

He's had a rough go of it, I know that. With his mum. That's part of it.

And there's the vampire bit too.

It's not that Baz doesn't confide in us. I'm not saying that. He told us about being a vampire. That's a confidence of highest order.

Told us he's gay too. I think that was easier for him than the vampire bit. It's not that he doesn't trust us. That's not it at all.

He just doesn't really tell you what he's thinking. Baz isn't one to spill his innermost thoughts, his doubts, his weakness (if he even has any) (he's very selective about what he shares) (it's maddening).

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Dev." Niall's eyes meet mine. They're back to their usual color. He stopped spelling them this summer, when I told him I liked them better brown. They're warm and more familiar somehow than the muddy blue he's had the last few years.

"Just thinking about the blistering we're going to get from Baz for being late."

"He'll get over it once we get a few drinks in him."

"You think it's a good idea, letting him drink? He's been doing it a bit too much lately, I'd say."

Niall sighs. "I know. I don't like it either. But it's so damn hard to drag anything out of him. He's tetchy. All the bloody time."

"Do you think we should tell him?"

"About us, you mean?" Niall's forehead creases. "I want to. I think it's probably the right thing to do. I mean, he's our best friend." His brows lower. "But at the same time, I worry about it. I don't want him to pull back even more. Thinking he's got to give us space, I mean. I don't want that."

I know what he means. Baz has few friends as it is. Niall and my relationship changing alters the dynamics of our friendship. I don't want to give Baz any excuse to isolate himself further. That's no good.

Niall keeps talking. "I don't see any point in telling him. Not tonight, at any rate. Knowing Baz, he'll figure it out for himself soon enough."

"Unless he's distracted."

"It's not like Snow's going to be there tonight. He's about the only thing that does distract Baz."

"You still think that's what's up with Baz? Snow?"

Niall darts a look at me. "You know I do. You've seen it yourself, Dev. I know you have, even if you don't want to admit it. Watch him tonight. If I'm right it should be pretty obvious, even to your thick self."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"After we drop Baz off."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

**Baz**

Niall pulls up in his ghastly green Cooper Clubman exactly twenty-two minutes late. I'm about ready to lambast him but then Dev immediately slides out the front door to take his usual position in the back, so I can have the meagre extra legroom this poor excuse of a vehicle provides, and I don't have the heart to start our evening off by being an absolute shit.

"Gentlemen." I incline my head and then lean back, stretching my legs as far as the accommodations allow.

It's obviously not the worst car Niall could have chosen to buy. A Jetta would have been far more of a travesty. But a Clubman is such a _predictable_ car, too cliché, so very trite.

Especially since he bought it in the utterly banal racing green. The only thing that could have possibly made it worse is if he had acquired the version with a bloody Union Jack painted on the top.

I wasn't really in the mood to go out tonight. I'm not in the mood to do a bloody thing to be honest.

Other than hide out in my room and sulk about Snow.

Mope, more like it. This is our last year at Watford. The last year I have the opportunity to share a room with him, gaze at his burnished bronze curls, look into his ordinary blue eyes.

Listen to the sound of him breathe in the night. Indulge in the clandestine delight of watching him sleep, allow myself those few, precious moments when I can gaze at him freely.

It all ends when we graduate. If we even make it to that point.

If he hasn't killed me already, Snow will walk out of my life the day we leave Watford. I'll never have a chance to be that close to him again, unless it's eventually skewered on the business end of his blasted sword.

Which is honestly the best scenario. It will put an end to the misery of my pathetic pining and I can rest assured that Snow is safe and alive and that nothing I do can ever hurt him.

I can't believe it's come to this. Falling in love with Simon Snow is by far the stupidest thing I've ever done. But I can't take it back. I've done everything I can think of to make myself stop. To make me hate him.

I hate that I love him but I can't hate _him._

Enough. Tonight is supposed to be about going out with Dev and Niall. Forgetting Snow (as if that's possible) (it's not).

If not forgetting him then at least exorcising him from my thoughts, at least for a little while.

**Dev**

This club is crowded for a weeknight. Baz has disappeared into the press of bodies on the dancefloor. He's barely spoken tonight. Didn't make any of his usual shit comments about Niall's car. Never even mentioned the fact that we were late. It's not like him.

I'm worried.

He's had a few drinks already. Not his usual sweet concoctions either. Tonight it's whiskey. Neat.

I don't like that at all.

Niall's fingers brush against mine. We're right by the bar, hemmed in by people on all sides. The press of the crowd gives us an easy excuse for standing so close together. I hook my pinky finger around his and give a light squeeze. This is about all we're going to manage tonight, if we want to avoid raising Baz's suspicions.

Not that Baz is paying us much mind. Niall's noticed a pattern, on these nights out, and tonight I can see it myself.

Baz usually has a few drinks then heads to the dancefloor. He loves to dance and he's fucking incredible at it. I'd have said that even before I figured out I was gay. Or maybe I noticed because I was gay. I don't know. Doesn't matter.

He used to dance with anyone, as long as they knew what they were doing on the dancefloor. Blokes. Girls. Didn't matter.

Niall was the one to notice the change. Baz began to dance more exclusively with blokes. And then a particular type of bloke this year.

Or blokes with a particular look, I should say.

I didn't really notice at first, not until Niall kept badgering me about it. I was too focused on finding someone to dance with most nights.

But once he pointed it out it was fairly obvious. They shared some distinguishing features. Similar colouring. A type of build.

Something reminiscent of Snow.

And neither of us has the balls to say anything to Baz about it.

**Baz**

I revel in the warmth of the bodies around me, the heat emanating from all the sweating skin that surrounds me. It's intoxicating, far more so than the whiskey I've been drinking for the past few hours. The sharp tang of sweat, the trace scent of blood, the pulsing beat of the music thrumming in time with the heartbeats of those around me.

He caught my eye across the crowded dance floor and made his way towards me. Under the dim lights he was a reasonable option. A blurred and imperfect likeness.

He'll do.

He moves nearer, eyes on me, hand grazing my hip. I close my eyes and sway to the music. It's easier if I don't look too closely. Easier with the image in my mind.

The press of people brings us closer, chest to chest, the heat of him radiating towards me. We dance, song after song, the pounding rhythm pulling us closer and closer until he's practically grinding on me. That's all right. I can handle that.

The scent's all wrong. My nose wrinkles with distaste and I make the mistake of opening my eyes. He's leaning in but I can't do it.

His eyes aren't the right blue. His hair is a dingy blonde, not the bronze curls that haunt my dreams. His skin is pale, the poor excuses he has for freckles dim and ordinary.

He's not Snow, he fucking never will be Snow, and _I can't do this_.

I'm never going to kiss Simon Snow but I'll be damned if I stoop to kissing this cheap facsimile of him. I step back, put a restraining hand against the chest of this nameless distraction.

"No."

"Come on. I thought we had something going here."

"I said no."

"What, you can't be serious?"

"Sod off." I push him away, not restraining my strength and he staggers, cursing. I storm off the dance floor. I need to get the fuck out of this place. I need to get the fuck away from here, from him, from the thoughts in my head.

It takes me a few minutes to find Dev and Niall. They're pressed against the bar, deep in conversation, wrapped up in whatever discussion they're trying to have amidst the din of this club.

I reach them and knock Dev's shoulder. His scowl relaxes when he sees it's me. "I want to get the fuck out of here." He darts a glance at Niall and I'm inexplicably irritated by the look that passes between them. It's a conversation that I'm not part of, that they're carrying on without me. Fuck that. "I said I want to _go_." I'm louder now. My head is pounding and I probably need to feed and the whiskey's finally hitting me, harder than I expected it to.

"Alright, Baz, alright." Niall's soothing voices just pisses me off more.

"Don't patronize me, Niall. If you aren't ready to go I'll find my own fucking way home."

"Don't be a bloody knobhead, Baz. No one said anything about not being ready to go." Dev knocks into my shoulder and frowns. "We've been waiting on you, arsehole."

**Niall**

Baz is seated next to me but he may as well be a thousand miles away. He's not said a word since we left the club. No explanation of why he wanted to leave. No answer when Dev asked him if he was alright. He literally _snarled _in response.

I'm thinking our boy needs a midnight snack and not the salt and vinegar crisp kind. I wonder if I should pull over once we get into the countryside, magic up a badger or some such for him to feed on. He'd probably shout at me for even suggesting it.

Doesn't matter. You learn early on that Baz's bark is worse than his bite, once he actually lets you get to know him a bit.

Which is sodding hard to do. The bastard is so closemouthed about _everything_. But I've known him since before we even started at Watford so I'm not about to be scared off by Baz roaring at me.

Wouldn't be the first time and certainly won't be the last.

I'd rather he get it out of his system and settle down so I can get to the real question. What the devil is he doing messing about with blokes who look like Snow?

I mean, I _know_ what he's doing. He's got a bloody crush on Snow and he's fucking miserable about it. But I can't say trying to snog shitty Snow look-alikes is a healthy way to deal with it.

Not that Baz would bother with a reasonable way to deal with shit though, would he? He overthinks every bloody thing. He's probably convinced himself the only way to get over Snow is to snog some knobhead who looks like him.

Which is truly expert level denial and shitty coping mechanism. Baz's specialty, right there.

I glance up at the rearview mirror and meet Dev's eyes. He's frowning. He gets this crease in the middle of his forehead when he worries. It's both adorable and vexing. He bottles up a lot of the things he wants to say to Baz and then I get an earful later.

It's not that he defers to Baz. Not at all. They get into verbal scraps more often than people would think. But Dev tends to tread very lightly when it comes to talking about feelings and emotions and such with him. He's not as emotionally constipated as Baz, not by any stretch of the imagination.

I can actually get Dev to talk about his feelings. Thank magic. We wouldn't have figured out this mutual attraction thing if the git hadn't been able to do that.

But he's not good at doing that with Baz. I don't know why. I usually just barrel in, get shouted at a bit, garner a sliver of useful information, then try again another day. Dev just avoids engaging in that kind of talk with Baz in general.

I don't know if it's because of Baz's mum.

It probably is. I'm not family so I can't say for sure.

I tilt my head in Baz's direction and Dev scowls at me in the mirror. Fuck it all. Well, if he's not going to say something I bloody well am. I've had enough of this. I don't like the way Baz is drinking lately, I don't like the mood he's sunk into, I don't like the idea of him chasing after chavvy twats just to get Snow off his mind.

It doesn't work that way.

He needs to face this head on. It's not like Snow's going to kill him, just because Baz fancies him (I suppose he might, actually) (no, he wouldn't) (he doesn't kill things without provocation) (this might be provocation enough).

I think Snow would just be relieved Baz wasn't going to charm Agatha away from him.

Although I have my doubts about Snow. I've seen how Baz looks at him but I don't think Baz or Dev have really taken a close look at how Snow looks at Baz. Or how he talks about him.

I have.

He's fucking obsessed with Baz, no question on that. They're obsessed with each other. But it goes beyond that, I think.

This past year of pining after Dev gave me some unexpected insight. It's a fucking nightmare fancying your roommate. Everything becomes fraught with meaning. And if you think the whole sodding thing is unrequited it becomes absolute torture.

It never got quite that bad for me. I mean the pining was a bit rough but at least I knew Dev well enough not to read too much into his casual actions and offhand comments.

Baz and Snow aren't like that. They've never gone below the surface as far as getting to know each other. They're not friends. They don't have a solid foundation like that, that keeps them grounded. They're all sharp edges and bitter comments and physical altercations.

I think it's their dysfunctional way of flirting. Socially inept, the both of them. They're just too caught up in being the unwilling protagonists in their own respective tragedies that they can't see what's plainly in front of them.

At least that's what I think. But I'm a hopeless romantic.

"Baz." I ignore Dev's furious glare.

Baz doesn't even open his eyes. "Shut up, Niall. I'm resting."

"The fuck you are." I'll start with the easy part. "Shall I stop near the wood? Grab yourself a snack before we get you home?"

He does open his eyes now, to glare at me. Dev groans from the back seat.

"Don't give me that look, Baz. You're in a shit mood. There's usually only a short list of reasons why: Snow, Snow, Bunce getting better marks than you, Snow, The Mage existing, you needing to feed. Did I miss any, Dev?"

"Coach Mac telling him he's showboating."

"I do not showboat." Baz literally spits the words out.

"Right, I'll add that one the list." I nod at Dev and keep talking. "So, seeing as the term hasn't started it can't be Bunce or Coach Mac. That leaves us with Snow, the Mage and you needing to feed. My guess at the moment is you need to feed, although I've got some suspicions about the Snow angle I wouldn't mind discussing."

"I have no interest in discussing Snow."

"Right. Feed first, Snow conversation later."

"What the actual fuck, Niall?"

I don't answer, just take the next turn. The car bounces along the dirt road until we reach the wooded area that borders the Pitch property. I park the car and turn to Baz. "You want me to magic up an assortment of wildlife or you up to doing it yourself?"

"Fuck off." Baz exits the vehicle and stalks towards the thicket of trees. I dim the headlights to give him his privacy. I was right. I tell Dev as much.

"Yes, well anyone could see he needed to feed. It's not that hard to figure out." Dev's the tetchy one now. I don't mind. I know he's apprehensive about me broaching the subject of Snow with Baz but it's about damn time one of us did and Dev won't do it.

"It needs to be said, Dev. You saw that bloke tonight. Like a faded copy of Snow. They've all been like that, every time this summer. He can't go back to a year of rooming with Snow without dealing with it."

"Oh, come on, Niall. You—"

I interrupt him. "I know I did. But I figured out how to deal with it. I wasn't getting drunk in bars and grinding on lookalikes now, was I?"

Dev subsides. A moment later I feel the brush of his fingers on my shoulder and a whisper of "Sorry," in my ear.

"It's alright. I'm prepared for this to be a shit conversation. But I can't watch him do this to himself."

Baz returns shortly, not a hair out of place. His cheeks are a bit fuller than usual and his color's better. His expression however is grim.

"Will you take me home now? Or should I just cut across the field and walk?"

Merlin, he's insufferable sometimes.

I'm not taking any chances on him ducking out of the car when the conversation gets to be too much. I rev the engine and we bump down the lane, back to the main road. I slow the car down. There's no one else on this stretch. I'm in no hurry.

"What's going on, Baz?"

"I've no idea what you mean."

"You've been an absolute shit all week. More than usual, at least." I may as well cut to the chase. "What's with the wanker at the club?"

Baz sneers. "I don't see how it's any of your business who I dance with."

"It may not be but when your dance partners seem to fit a particular pattern I get a bit worried, mate."

That hit home. I darted a look at him just in time to catch the widening of his eyes at my words, before he had a chance to school his features.

"What the devil do you mean?"

"Bloody hell." Dev leans forward from the back seat. "He means they all look like fucking Snow, Baz. What the fuck is that all about?"

Even I'm stunned by Dev jumping in. Baz looks panicked for a split second and then the mask slams down. Fuck, I hate it when he does this around us. He doesn't need to do it, the fucking twat. Not with us.

**Baz**

I definitely haven't had enough to drink tonight. The ideal amount is clearly whatever would have rendered me unconscious before having to deal with Dev's question.

There is literally no amount of alcohol that would induce me to actually_ answer_ Dev's question.

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"The fuck you don't. Every time, every single bloody time that we've gone to the clubs this summer, you've ended up with some bloke who looks just like Simon fucking Snow. Someone with his hair, or his build, or his shit-ton of moles. Every one, Baz."

Fuck.

_Fuck._

I didn't think they'd notice.

I hadn't set out to do it intentionally. Not at first. But I couldn't help myself. I'd see a bloke who reminded me of Snow and then I couldn't look away. I'd imagine it was him. A Simon Snow who'd never met me before, didn't think I was a complete villain, just saw me as a boy. A boy he could talk to, a boy he could dance with, a boy he could bloody well snog.

Not that I actually ever snogged any of them.

It was just a fantasy. I could never truly make a go of it. They were just cheap imitations of the real thing.

None of them could ever compare to him.

I've never kissed anyone and I'm likely to bloody well die by Snow's hand before I ever get a chance to. I'll have to save my dying breath for my first kiss.

And my last.

I am such a fucking disaster.

But not enough of a disaster to even consider discussing my hopeless situation with Dev and Niall.

"Can you hurry the fuck up, Niall? I could have walked home faster than this." The car has slowed to a snail's pace.

"Dev asked you a question, Baz. I'm curious about an answer myself."

Blast Niall. This is intolerable. I will not be interrogated on the subject of who I choose to dance with at a sodding club. Like it's any of their fucking business.

I'm not going to answer. Fuck this entire night, this entire conversation.

"Baz."

"Kindly fuck off, Niall."

He glances at Dev in the rearview mirror and it incenses me further. His next words do nothing to dispel that emotion.

"I'd say he's a bit tetchy on the subject, don't you think, Dev?"

Dev, showing absolutely no family loyalty whatsoever, nods his head in agreement. "Seems we've hit a nerve."

I grit my teeth. Any further show of emotion on my part is just going to be playing into their hands. It seems I have vastly misjudged their powers of perception. They've been as tenacious as Snow in their stalking.

Blast them both.

I've handled this poorly. Overwrought with thoughts of Snow lately and too much to drink tonight. I should never have let them get to me like this. I'm not sure how to salvage the situation.

I have to try. I can't leave it this way, with them suspecting that my feelings for Snow are anything but sheer loathing. I'll be lucky if I manage to survive this final year with Snow, let alone tolerate even a single term with Dev and Niall speculating every time I interact with him.

I can't think of single thing to say that will extricate me from this mess. Dev starts in again before I've managed to collect myself.

"It's alright, Baz. If you . . . if you maybe have an interest in Snow. It's alright."

"Doesn't matter to us, mate." Niall chimes in.

There's a part of me that desperately wants to confide in them. To finally let this out, tell someone how I feel about Snow, permit myself the luxury of admitting it.

It's so very tempting.

But I can't.

Not just to preserve my own dignity (although that is most certainly a part of it). But for Simon's sake. I can't effectively protect him, when the time comes, if my feelings have been exposed. The Old Families will send someone else to end him, if they think I'm not up to the job.

I can't let that happen. It has to be me.

That's the only way I can be sure no one hurts him.

I'd never hurt him.

But they don't have to know that.

I close my eyes and clench my jaw. Niall and Dev are my best friends. I trust them.

But not with this.

"I don't know what you think you saw but you couldn't be more mistaken." I can salvage this. I'm a Pitch. I can talk my way around anyone.

"What I saw was a guy who looks like Snow draped all over you." Dev inadvertently gives me the slender lifeline I need to weasel my way out of this.

"A guy draped _over me_."

"That's what I said, Baz. Practically grinding on you."

"Again, _on me_."

"What're you getting at, Baz? I saw it. With my own eyes. Niall too."

"You saw a guy making moves on me."

"Fuck it all, Baz, must you keep repeating yourself? That's exactly what I'm saying. The bloke was all over you and I can't say you were looking disinterested."

"And that's where you're wrong." My voice is icy now. "You saw what you wanted to see. You saw a guy make a move on me. You didn't notice the part where I shoved him away? You didn't notice the part where I left the dance floor? Did you forget that I was the one that wanted to leave?"

They're both staring at me and I feel a tiny flicker of hope. This might work after all, thank Crowley.

"But . . . but you were dancing with him, Baz." Niall looks perplexed now. Good.

"I danced with a lot of people. I can't help it if I happen to attract that kind of attention. But I'm not the one seeking it out, I'll have you know." I cross my arms. "I can't say I observed the resemblance myself. I don't spend my time ogling Snow enough to notice." I raise my eyebrow and look directly at Dev, intimating that perhaps he does.

It works like a charm. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. "What?"

Niall has already whipped his head around to glare at Dev. Interesting. The looks they are exchanging warrant further analysis when I'm sober and far less agitated.

"Eyes on the road, Niall." I interrupt their silent conversation as my home finally looms up ahead. About damn time.

I spring out of the car before Niall manages to get the car fully into park. "Goodnight, gentlemen. Dev, I believe we have a tennis match tomorrow afternoon. Niall, I appreciate your willingness to drive, shit vehicle notwithstanding." I nod my head and make my way to the front door as fast as I possibly can without appearing to be making a run for it.

**Dev**

"When the hell have you been ogling bloody Snow?"

"Piss off, Niall." I settle myself in the front seat and glare at him. "Baz was just fucking with us. You know he's a master of deflection. That's exactly what that was. Distracted you, just as he'd hoped he would, and then he did a runner for the house. Fucking twat."

"Don't try and change the subject."

Fucking hell. I'm going to destroy Baz tomorrow. He's such a shit. We finally had him cornered and he still managed to talk his way out of it.

He always does, the bloody twat. He knew exactly what he was doing. I'd be half tempted to admire his ingenuity and desperation if he hadn't managed it by setting Niall off like this.

I put my hand over Niall's. "Hey. It's just Baz. He was desperate to weasel out of answering any way he could, so he tossed that out to distract us." I rub my thumb over his knuckles. "If anyone's spending time ogling Snow it's Baz, not me, and you know it." I lean closer. "Niall."

Our eyes meet. "There's only one person I've any interest in ogling and I'm looking at him right this minute."

He smiles then, that lopsided grin of his that I adore. His fingers twine with mine. "Damn straight."

"No luck with that, mate. Nothing straight about either of us." That makes him laugh, thank Merlin. I lean in to brush my lips to his and he instantly deepens the kiss.

I don't care if Baz is watching out his window.

I don't believe a word he said tonight. I know what I saw. Let him keep his secret, if it's so important to him.

But I'm going to be watching, when we get back to Watford.

Watching Baz and Snow.

**Niall**

At first, I thought Baz had decided that spending one more year sharing a room with Snow, whilst pining for him, was just too much to tolerate. I wondered if our badgering him was what had made him change his mind about coming back to Watford.

Dev wasn't convinced. He called home when classes started and there was still no sign of Baz.

No one's seen him since the day after we went out. Since his tennis match with Dev at the Club.

I'm worried. So's Dev.

But I think Snow's more upset than either of us expected.

By all rights he should be ecstatic at not having to share a room with his nemesis.

Instead he's pestering me about Baz's whereabouts, persistently and with rapidly increasing agitation.

You'd think he missed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_**Present Day**_

**Niall**

I'm lying on the sofa, my head resting on Dev's lap.

I think I could fall asleep, even if it is the middle of the afternoon. He's winding his fingers through my hair and it's so fucking soothing.

Until the bloody ominous music from his mobile blasts into the silence. I startle, barely managing to keep myself from falling off the sofa. Dev yelps as I clutch his pant leg and I end up pinching him when I grip too hard.

Fucking hell.

"Must you have that blasted Toccata as Baz's ringtone, you knob?" I'm growling as I sit up. Dev waves me off as he answers his mobile.

Baz rarely calls. He usually texts, so it's rare that I have to hear that creepy fucking ringtone Dev gave him a while back. It's bloody unnerving, it is.

My heart's still pounding from it. I swear to Merlin I'm going to nick Dev's mobile later and switch it to something else.

Something just as rude but a hell of a lot quieter.

"Tonight?" Dev's brow creases as he talks to Baz. Despite my annoyance, I'm curious as to what warranted an actual phone call from him.

"Put it on speaker," I hiss at Dev.

He waves me off again, the wanker. I lean against the armrest at the far end of the sofa and amuse myself by kicking his leg at intervals until he finally rings off.

"Give me your mobile."

"Why should I?" Dev frowns at me.

"Because I cannot handle that infernal ringtone you have for Baz. How can you tolerate it? It practically tipped me into a bloody panic attack just now."

Dev shrugs, a grin on his face and one eyebrow up. "It's perfect for him."

"Give me your mobile." I reach my hand out, palm up.

He rolls his eyes and pockets it instead. Wanker.

Then Dev leans in my direction, sliding down the sofa so he's bracketed between my legs and holding himself up over my chest. "What do you say to going out tonight?"

"Was that why Baz called?"

Dev nods. "Asked if we wanted to hit the clubs."

"Are you serious?" This is unexpected.

The last time we went to a club with Baz was the night before he was kidnapped by the fucking numpties. Almost two years ago now.

"What the devil does he want to go to a club for? He's got Snow to snog senseless whenever he wants."

Dev shrugs. "Wants to go dancing with Snow it seems."

I smirk up at him. "Now that should be a sight."

I get a snort in response.

We've both gotten used to Snow hanging around but I can't say Dev wasn't bitter about it at first.

So was I.

We wasted our entire childhood plotting against Simon Snow and then spent the summer before eighth year tiptoeing around the idea that Baz fancied him.

Which the besotted twat categorically denied, mind you.

Until he didn't. Until he snogged the ever-loving hell out of Snow at the fucking Leavers Ball in front of everyone.

Not exactly the way you'd expect your best friend to tell you he was dating his sworn nemesis, now is it?

It made for some lively conversation on move-out day.

"_I never swore any oaths." _

"_Fucking hell, Baz," Dev had shaken his head._

"_Snow probably did. Who knows what the Mage made him do?" I had added._

"_I asked you, you twat! I asked you and you categorically denied it!" _

"_I don't seem to recall denying it so much as side-stepping the topic." Baz's tone had stayed exasperatingly even. _

"_What the actual fuck, Baz? I told you it was fine to tell us if you fancied Snow." We both had actually. _

"_I'm telling you I fancy Snow."_

"_Bloody hell. You are such a prick."_

"So you said yes, then? We're going out dancing with Snow and Baz?" I slide my arms around Dev's waist and run my fingers slowly up and down his back.

He sinks down a little. "That's the plan."

"What time?" I tug at the hem of his shirt.

"Not 'til later."

"How much later?" I waggle my eyebrows at him.

Dev laughs. It's a sound I'll never tire of. He leans down to kiss me and I part my lips for him.

We're chest to chest now, the weight of him familiar and arousing.

"We've more than enough time."

I sink my fingers into his hair and pull his face back to mine. "Good."

Dev's hands are under my shirt, his mouth tracing a line down my jaw, to my neck, his breath ghosting over my collarbone. My shirt hikes further up and I push him back for just a moment, so I can pull it over my head and toss it to the floor.

Dev's grin at the sight of my bare chest is positively sinful. Merlin and Morgana, I love it when he's like this.

We're not too handsy when we're around other people. It's a bit of a habit, after spending all of eighth year in an undeniably covert relationship.

It's a bit how Snow and Baz still snipe at each other—affectionately now, mind you-but it's a pattern for them, even if the sentiment behind it is completely benign now.

Sharing a room with the person you fancy, when they fancy you back, is a dream come true.

Eighth year was horrific in so many ways—Baz going missing, the uptick in the Mage's shenanigans, the wretched reality of Natasha Pitch's death, the whole Christmas break disaster. The bleakness of second term.

Having Dev was really the only bright spot.

Baz would always bugger off on weekends to go visit Snow. And even when he was at Watford his mind was always drifting to Hounslow, to Snow, unless we had a mountain of coursework.

Which left plenty of time for me and Dev to be alone. In our room.

Not that we got up to much. Neither of us were quite sure how the Anathema would respond to more _physical _activities. And we didn't want to find out and end up buck naked on the other side of the gates in the middle of winter.

So we took it slow.

I'm grateful for that now. We were both fumbling idiots. Dev had messed around with a French girl, the summers before I started traveling with his family, but that was about it for him.

I'd had a few escapades of my own, prior to him, but confined to ardent snogging and roaming hands. Not much more than that.

It's been a road of discovery, once we were well rid of the spectre of the Anathema.

It's been slow and steady and soft and sensual.

I love him.

I can't imagine my life without him. Dev's been my companion for so many years, first as my best friend and now as so much more—my boyfriend of two years, the man I've been disgustingly in love with for longer than that.

I grope at the buttons of his shirt, fumble to try to release him from its confines. Dev laughs again and sits up to take it off himself. I run my hands up the planes of his abdomen, to the smooth surface of his pectorals and then back down to hover at his waistband.

"You're sure we have time?"

A flash of a smile. Lips trailing down my chest, across my abdomen, lingering just above my belt—a wicked smirk directed at me before he finally answers.

"I always have the time for you, Niall."

I sigh as his hands unbuckle my belt and the heat of his breath moves further down, my hands sinking into the waves of his dark hair.

We're both going to need a shower before we go out, if I have any say in the matter.

**Dev**

I turn the shower on and wait for the water to heat up.

It's not that we don't hang out with Baz and Snow. We do. Not frequently of course, what with Niall and I being at Oxford and Baz and Snow in London.

But we went round to Baz's flat a few times last summer, met up at the Club, joined Snow and Bunce for a couple of movie nights at their place. Spent a few days at the Lodge over the holidays last year.

It was awkward at first. How could it not be? We'd spent fucking _years _doing everything we could to annoy the fuck out of Snow. It's a hard habit to break.

I'm working on it. Niall is too. Baz and Snow still do their verbal sparring. Niall was right about that in the end; it was their dysfunctional way of flirting, the daft bastards. Still is.

But I've definitely had a chance to get to know Snow better, since we left Watford.

He's a good sort, it turns out. He's everything you'd expect Snow to be: unbearably earnest, frightfully kind, surprisingly thoughtful, and unrelentingly stubborn.

Still obsessively focused on Baz. In a good way.

He's good for Baz in every way, I've come to realize. He brings out a side of Baz that's been buried for so long.

Snow makes Baz happy. And that's enough for me. I can't help liking him, for that alone.

I will admit I am damn curious to see the Baz and Snow dynamic at the club tonight.

I'm not sure I'm prepared to see Snow dance.

I can't imagine that blasted tail and creepy wings do Snow any favors on the dance floor. He was always a bit of a clod, even before, when he was dating Wellbelove.

He wasn't completely awkward when he danced with Baz at the Leavers Ball, but all they did then was basically sway in place and snog. The whole bloody school was torn between an assertion somewhere between "_what the actual fuck_" and "_oh thank magic, it's about bloody time." _

Which it damn well was. Niall and I had suspected for months.

Wankers.

Slow dancing is one thing. Club dancing is something else.

This should be interesting.

Honestly, I'm looking forward to a night out with Niall. We've not been to a club since that last time with Baz, almost two years ago now.

So much happened eighth year. A night out dancing wasn't quite on the agenda.

It's not as if we were out as far as our relationship either.

Oxford changed that. Our families know, our friends know. And it's good.

Really good.

We spent so many nights at those clubs chasing after shadows, just like Baz did. Unlike Baz neither of us knew exactly what or who we were yearning for, what was missing.

That what we needed was just a fingerbreadth away on those nights.

In the desk next to us in class.

Sitting across at mealtimes.

In the bed on the far side of our room.

I had to travel all the way to France to figure out that what I was searching for had been right next to me the entire time.

It was never volatile and fiery, like Snow and Baz.

But that doesn't mean it's not as powerful, what I feel for Niall.

It's private and personal.

But he's my entire world.

**Niall**

I nick Dev's mobile while he's in the shower and change Baz's ringtone.

Fuck the Toccata.

I think the Spice Girls _"Who Do You Think You Are"_ is bloody perfect.

And it certainly won't scare the shit out of me.

**Dev**

Baz swings around with the Jag and the four of us head to one Baz's favorite clubs. Posh dress code, plenty of his beloved fruity drinks, a good size dance floor, and solid DJs.

He's dressed for it, the tosser. Skinny black jeans, deep burgundy shirt, black blazer with a pattern of floral embroidery picked out in wine-dark reds and lush green. He's embraced the fucking vampire prince vibe with this get-up.

He doesn't have his hair slicked back though. Baz rarely ever slicks it back anymore and I suspect it's all due to Snow's preferences. He must like it falling in waves around Baz's face.

Snow's obviously been subjected to a _Queer Eye for Baz's Guy_ makeover. His jeans are dark and fitted to him, nothing like the ill-fitting clothes he used to show up in on move-in day. He's not wearing a blazer, which makes sense with the wings and tail and the way he overheats on a good day, even without his magic.

It's Baz's influence all over this shirt though. Blue and trim, snug around Snow's shoulders, and the sleeves rolled part-way up to show off his forearms.

They make a striking pair.

Baz must have finally figured out a good spell for Snow's dragon-like appendages. I can't see any trace of them and he looks comfortable in the passenger seat.

Baz saunters into the club like he owns the place, and the three of us trail in his wake. He somehow finds a free table near the bar and we huddle by it as the music throbs around us.

Snow's eyes are alight and he keeps glancing about the club, taking it all in, a nervous energy radiating from him.

I wonder if he's ever been out dancing before. I'd not thought about that, with him in those care homes every summer. Not bloody likely, I'd say.

Niall bumps me with his shoulder. "Shall I get drinks?" His fingers reach down to squeeze mine. "Your usual, Dev?"

The bastard knows me so bloody well. I nod and give his hand a quick squeeze back.

"Snow? Baz? Whatever's sweet and fruity?"

Snow shakes his head. "Nah. I'm no good with the drinks. I'll just have water or a soda, if you would, Niall."

Baz slides him arm around Snow's waist. "Simon's a bit of a lightweight in the drinking department. Wouldn't want to have him sozzled before he gets a chance to have some fun." His eyes are hooded and he's looking at Snow like he's a tasty snack.

Snow flushes and ducks his head a bit as he leans into Baz. Bloody hell, it's still strange as fuck to see them soft with each other like this.

Niall heads off to the bar and I'm definitely a third wheel as Baz and Snow only have eyes for each other. I have a strong suspicion how this night's going to end for them. Someone's getting off and it isn't going to be of the magical type.

I've never been quite sure how intimate Baz and Snow are. Baz doesn't say much about it but I know he was about as virginal and naïve as one could be, before he got together with Snow.

I doubt Snow's any better, bar the snogging. I never got the feeling he and Wellbelove did much more than that.

I don't have any proof, I mean I didn't sneak up on them when they were snogging or anything like that. It's just the impression I got from them both.

There was none of this smoldering sensuality that's being played out across the table from me right at this moment.

Honestly there was more simmering sexual tension when Baz and Snow were fighting than when Snow and Wellbelove were dating.

Niall comes back with the drinks and we sit around in companionable silence as the music reverberates around us. His hand slides around my waist and I lean into him, a mirror image of Snow across the table.

Two years ago, I'd have been self-conscious about it. Two years ago, no one knew about me and Niall. I reach an arm around and pull him closer, close enough to rest my head on his shoulder.

Snow gives me a gentle smile from across the table. Fuck it all. He really is the nicest guy and I just want to kick Baz for all the shit we put him through.

But it's hard to be mad at Baz when he's looking at Snow like that.

Like he's the centre of his universe.

**Niall**

I finally get Dev on the dance floor. He's in some maudlin, sentimental mood tonight. He keeps looking at Snow and Baz, then getting this dreadfully fond look on his face, and then he tugs me closer and presses kisses to my jaw.

I'm not complaining about that. Not in the slightest. I like it. He's usually not so demonstrative in public. But he's rarely this sappy either so a little dance floor action might do him good.

He is in a mood, that's for sure. He's not needing any more drinks, I'm thinking.

The music thrums through the floor, my pulse beating in time. It's crowded tonight but Dev and I have a space for ourselves. Not much.

But I'm not complaining about that either.

Dev's got his arms on my shoulders, lightly looped around my neck. Mine are on his hips, which are moving closer to me with every drumbeat. I can feel the heat of him, see the slick sheen of sweat on his forehead, the stray hairs that stick to his skin. The familiar aroma of his cologne layered over the tangy scent of his sweat.

Crowley, he's a sight tonight. My fingers dig in and I pull him to me.

And that's when I see Baz, across the dance floor. He's by the bar and he's got an expression on his face I've not seen in years. A prowling, predatory look, grey eyes scanning the room with a laser-like focus.

Where the fuck is Snow?

I pull back a little, to follow the direction of Baz's gaze.

It locks on our table. Snow's still standing there, sipping his drink in what can only be labeled a completely lascivious way. His Adam's apple is bobbing and when he puts the drink down there's a bead of liquid clinging to his lip.

The way he licks it off is frankly indecent.

I need a witness for this.

"Dev."

"What?"

"You've got to see this."

"See what?"

I tug him towards me and turn him around, so I'm basically spooning him on the fucking dance floor, my chest flush to his back. I'm tall enough that I can look over his shoulder this way.

"Look at Baz. By the bar."

He dutifully looks and I can tell when he spots him. Dev stands up straighter and his head swivels to our table to find Snow.

Snow's gaze is locked on Baz and he's doing that chin jut thing. What he used to do when he'd be going hammer and anvil with Baz.

I've an idea he wants to bang something else right now.

He's literally smoldering with lust. He's singularly focused on Baz (which is nothing new, now that I think about it).

If he still had magic he'd be doing that shimmery thing he used to do, where his edges would blur right before he'd go off.

I dart my eyes in Baz's direction and it's like fucking déjà vu. This is how he'd look when he'd cross the dance floor to find those Snow lookalikes.

Well not quite. He used to look harder, edgier, sharper. A bitterness to him as he did. A hint of desperation.

Now all I see is complete absorption. He may as well be alone in here, the rest of us are faded to black compared to Snow.

"Fuck." Dev's tracking Baz too. "Fucking unbelievable."

I slump down to rest my chin on his shoulder. "He doesn't have to stalk the lookalikes anymore."

He turns his head to look at me. "Are you not seeing this?"

"Of course I'm seeing it. I'm the one that drew your attention to this in the first place, you wanker. It's the classic Baz stalking move."

"You are a complete numpty, you know that, right?"

"What? Why?"

"They're fucking role-playing, you knob-head. Look at them. Holy fuck, Baz is living out his fantasies right here in front of us. Fucking hell, why did they ask us to come with them?"

It's like a train wreck. You can't look away.

Baz saunters across the dance floor and Snow impossibly juts his chin out _even more_. It's indecent, the way he's looking at Snow, and the half-lidded gaze Snow sends back is simply sinful.

Baz reaches the table and tilts his head so he's looking down at Snow as he speaks. There's barely an inch between them. Snow leans in to respond and I swear the air around them shimmers.

Baz pulls Snow to the dance floor and the people part like they're fucking royalty, although it's probably just the way Baz is glaring at everyone.

They start off dancing and I can tell Snow's wings and tail are an issue because he's suddenly gone all tentative and his eyes keep darting down. He's not really on the beat and he's just sort of swaying in place.

"I told you Snow's shit at dancing," Dev pipes up again. He's leaning back into me, resting his weight against my chest. I snug my arms around his waist, hooking my fingers in his belt.

"I don't recall disagreeing with you on that."

"Well, I'm just saying."

Things are heating up with Baz and Snow. Baz must have tidied up the tail business because Snow looks less uncertain and he's far closer to Baz now. They're pressed up almost chest to chest, and when Baz puts his leg between Snow's and Snow pushes closer, they start moving in sync to the music and it's impossible to look away.

They're fucking grinding on each other in the middle of this club, and Merlin, I've never seen Baz look so satisfied, so focused, so fucking in love.

Snow's hardly better. He's got his hands on Baz's hips, fingers digging in, eyes literally smoldering, and he's grinding on Baz's leg like they're the only people here.

What the actual fuck.

There is no question in my mind they're shagging. I hadn't been quite sure. I mean I know they've been dating for over a year, but Snow was a bit of a mess for a time and Baz, for all his external bravado, has always been quite the Vestal Virgin when it comes to sex.

Snow's the first person he's ever kissed, so there's no question he's a neophyte when it comes to shagging.

I think he's got that rectified now.

Baz and Snow are kissing now, Snow's hands on Baz's arse and Baz's tangled in Snow's hair. It's an erotic gropefest, is what it is.

But fuck, they both look so sodding happy.

I never thought it would come to this. I mean, I never thought they'd kill each other either, that was just Baz and his recurrent existentially dramatic shitshow.

I knew Baz fancied Snow. I had an idea Snow's obsession with Baz was far more than simply Mage directed. But they were both such oblivious, stubborn bastards I never thought they'd actually figure their shit out.

They've obviously figured their shit out.

**Dev**

Snow and Baz are literally snogging on the dancefloor. Baz has finally lived out his club fantasy and I'm a bit more emotional about it than I should be. I can't help remembering that summer. Those nights. The boys he'd single out, the faded copies of Snow. The desperation and yearning on his face and then the bitterness that would overshadow it.

He's got his chosen one now. And Snow's chosen him, which I think is just as meaningful.

I turn in Niall's arms.

I've chosen someone too. And it's time for me to focus on him. I'll leave Baz and Snow to it.

I pull Niall closer to me, settle my hands on his hips as he circles my back with his. "You're too fucking tall." I grin as I say it.

It's not much more than the height difference between Baz and Snow but I like to bitch about it just the same.

Niall gives me his crooked smile as he leans down. "Meet me half-way, then."

And I do. I'd do anything for him.


End file.
